Operation Leggo Lego
by Philippa
Summary: ON PERMANENT HIATUS When three fangirls are kidnapped one stormy night, they have no idea of the ordeal ahead of them. Is their obsession strong enough to survive the attack of the Middle Earth Deprogramming Agency?
1. Abduction

A/N 'Ray! I have a fic to post! (finally)  
  
*Asterisks* mean an unspoken thought or written material, depending on the context.  
  
CAPITALS mean emphasis. . . but you could probably figure that out.  
  
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are purely fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons is coincidental. I do not own any rights to Lord of the Rings (excepting those of a dedicated fan) or any other registered products or names which may appear in the course of the story.  
  
Rated PG for material which may be traumatic to some readers.  
  
Chapter 1: Abduction  
  
One dark and stormy night in February, the paths of three unsuspecting girls were altered forever. When it began they were unaware of each others' existence and perfectly happy to leave it that way. But their peaceful oblivion was about to be shattered, because they did, after all, have one thing in common . . .  
  
Jessica awoke slowly, determinedly resisting the call of the sunlight shining directly into her eyes. Groaning, she rolled over and buried her face in the pillow, but it was too late. A dart of consciousness had made it into her sleep fogged brain, and it refused to let her be. As she lay motionless, the dart coalesced into a thought. *Why is my pillowcase purple?*  
  
Her eyes snapping open, Jessica pushed herself up and stared at her sheets. A solid expanse of maroon lay where Smurfs and rainbows had been the night before. Jess lifted her head and stared at the room. It was definitely not the same one she had gone to bed in the night before. The walls were a dirty beige, alleviated here and there by very tacky prints, and the only furniture besides the bed was a low dresser and a rickety looking chair.  
  
"Where AM I?"  
  
Jess was not a person who liked surprises. Jumping out of bed she ran to the door and jerked at the handle. It didn't budge and wiggling the lock button didn't help. Crossing back to the middle of the room, Jess was about to give in to panicked hyperventilation when she spotted the note on the dresser, with her own name on it in her mother's handwriting. Tearing open the envelope, she rapidly scanned the short letter.  
  
*Jess Darling,  
  
I know this seems drastic and extreme, but please believe I'm only doing it because I love you! It's for the best darling, trust me. I'll be in to see you as soon as Joni and Dr. Istar allow. Please, please listen to what they have to say!  
  
All my love, Mom*  
  
Now that the adrenaline rush had worn off, Jess noticed the disgusting fuzz on her tongue and a sluggishness in her limbs. *According to the novels, this is what feels like after you've been drugged. It's for the best? WHAT'S for the best?*  
  
Feeling shaky, Jess sank down on the chair. Her hand went automatically to her throat, searching for the comfort of a familiar shape. She froze, then patted her neck frantically, searching for a chain that wasn't there. Someone had stolen her locket.  
  
* * * *  
  
Deirdre tapped the back space key furiously and tried again. *He gazed into her wide green eyes, sparkling with unshed tears, and whispered, "My world may be beyond your reach, lady, but my heart you will always hold in your hands."* She hit the save button before scrolling up the document with deep satisfaction. Five full pages wasn't bad for an evening's work. She glanced at the clock on the corner of the screen and jumped. *Hot gazoobies! Past midnight . . . again! Mom will be furious if she finds out.*  
  
She hit the X for Word and was preparing to shut down when her bedroom door opened and two men in dark clothing and black masks entered the room.  
  
Deirdre drew a deep breath and was about to scream when she caught sight of her mother standing in the doorway.  
  
"M-mom? What's going on?"  
  
"Deirdre, these men aren't going to hurt you. They're going to take you to a safe place where you can . . . think about things."  
  
"What? Mom, I don't under . . ."  
  
A ripping sound distracted Deirdre from her parent, and she turned to see one of the masked men roughly ripping down a large picture, leaving the corners still taped to the wall.  
  
"Hey, that's my poster! What are you . . . Don't you DARE touch that collage!"  
  
Deirdre's fingers curled themselves into claws as with a snarl, she launched herself at the man rearranging her décor. She was pulled abruptly out of midair by the other masked intruder. A roll of duct tape appeared, and the helpless teen's hands were secured behind her back.  
  
It was amazing what a high pitch Deirdre could reach at that volume. "Take your hands off those pictures you dirty little . . . mmmph MMRRRMMPHH!"  
  
One of the masked men carried out the silenced but struggling Deirdre, while the other scooped up the hastily assembled pile of her possessions. As he stepped out of the room a tearful mother laid a hand on his arm.  
  
"Please.just give my daughter back to me."  
  
The voice from behind the ski mask was kind, "Don't worry, ma'am, she's in the hands of the best now."  
  
* * * *  
  
Meg was walking down a dark alley. If she had ten bucks for every time she'd been told not to walk down dark alleys she wouldn't have to work the late shift. As it was, Meg had continued to take the short cut- down the dark alley- and nothing had ever happened to her. Until tonight.  
  
The van idling at the other end was barely visible in the shadows, the closest streetlight having been conveniently extinguished. As Megan's quick strides carried her past its dim taillights, the back doors swung open, and strong hands pulled her roughly inside.  
  
Kicking frantically, Meg tried to bite the hand that had cut off her scream, but it was removed as soon the doors were shut and the van pulled away from the curb. Shrieking at the top of her lungs, Meg hurled herself away from her captor, only to run into another body.  
  
"Meg. Megan! It's all right." It took more than a few seconds for the soothing voice to register.  
  
"Wha . . . Justin?"  
  
"Yeah, it's me."  
  
"'I'," corrected Meg in a shaky whisper.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"The correct phrase is, 'It's I,' not, 'It's me.'"  
  
"Oh, sorry."  
  
"I forgive you," said Megan sweetly. "Now, would you mind telling me WHAT IN MORDOR IS GOING ON?! I do NOT enjoy being DRAGGED into a dark van in the MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, and buddy you have some FAST explaining to do."  
  
"That's exactly what's going on," said Justin grimly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You said, 'What in Mordor.' Does that sound like a phrase a well balanced, normal person would use?"  
  
"I don't believe this. You're abducting me because I'm a Tolkien fan? And you think I'M unbalanced?"  
  
"You're not just a fan Meg. You're obsessed. Your entire life revolves around a world that doesn't exist. These people are going to help you. They're going to remind you that you have a real life, not just some dream world with that . . . that . . ." Justin's tone betrayed his revulsion. "ELF!"  
  
* * * *  
  
A/N The reprogramming has begun! *insert ominous chord* Will it be successful or will the fangirls hold out? Leave a review and tell us what you think! 


	2. Meet the Wardens

A/N Thank you Aragorn Elessar and Nyx, your reviews brought joy to my day!  
  
*Asterisks* mean an unspoken thought or written material, depending on the context.  
  
CAPITALS mean emphasis. . . but you could probably figure that out.  
  
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are purely fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons is coincidental. I do not own any rights to Lord of the Rings (excepting those of a dedicated fan), or any other registered products or names which may appear in the course of the story.  
  
Rated PG for material which may be traumatic to some readers.  
  
Chapter 2: Meet the Wardens  
  
Deirdre sat sulking on the edge of her bed. She had always known her parents were strange, but what kind of lunatics had their own child kidnapped? She hadn't thought she was THAT bad of a daughter. She shuddered and tried to block out the memory of the night before. The picture of her abductor ripping her beautiful poster off the wall replayed itself constantly in her memory. Her lovely elf boy, standing tall and straight with his bow, crumpled and torn in the hands of that fiend!  
  
Deirdre's teeth clenched, and when her door swung open the brown haired woman who entered the room was greeted with an expression like that of an enraged mama bear. The woman took no notice of Deirdre's hostility, but smiled brightly. "Good morning, dear, did you sleep well?"  
  
"Sleep well? Did I sleep well? I was bound, gagged and taken from my own home, I watched my property destroyed before my eyes, my parents were aware of what was happening and did nothing to stop it, and you ask me if I SLEPT WELL?!"  
  
"Destroyed? Oh dear, and I did warn them," the woman said worriedly. "They know that doesn't come until later, but I'm afraid Joe and Earnest can get a little overenthusiastic at times. It's very painful for them- the memories you know."  
  
"No I don't know," said Deirdre crossly, "and do I care? No! All I want is for someone to tell me what in Middle Earth is going on!" Her stomach rumbled loudly. "And when is breakfast?"  
  
* * * *  
  
It appeared to be the living area of a resort cabin, and not a five-star resort either. Megan sat slumped in a lumpy easy chair, replaying her conversation with Justin from the night before.  
  
*"You're jealous! You're doing this because you're jealous of Orlando Bloom?"  
  
"I am not jealous!"  
  
"Huh."  
  
Justin sighed in disgust. "All right, maybe I am. But do you know what it's like to date a girl who's in love with a . . . an imaginary demigod?"  
  
Meg slumped into a corner of the van. "I don't believe this. You think I don't care about you because I like Legolas?"  
  
His voice was a snarl. "You don't just 'like' him. You think about him constantly! I can see it in your eyes, whenever you get that dreamy, spaced out look, and I know you're not with me anymore. You're obsessed and you've forgotten what's real and what's . . ."  
  
"I do NOT have to listen to this."*  
  
Meg had shoved herself into a corner of the van and tried to remain wrapped in icy silence. However, with Justin's continued ranting about obsessions and Middle Earth in general and infatuations with elven archers in particular, Meg was forced to jam her fists over her ears and sing "I Know a Song that Gets on Everybody's Nerves" one hundred and eleven times (or elventy-one). Normally she would have been excited over landing on this important number, but she was too ticked off with Justin to leave room for happier emotions.  
  
"That drip had better understand the relationship is over," she muttered to the empty room. Then a rather unpleasant smile crossed her face. "On second thought, I hope he doesn't. I would enjoy breaking the news to him . . . with a baseball bat."  
  
* * * *  
  
A sniffling sound emerged from the huddle in the middle of the floor. Jess wiped her nose on her sleeve and stared dolefully at the wrecked room. She had torn the bed apart, covering the room with sheets and blankets, and even lifted the mattress and checked beneath the bed frame as far as she could squish her arm through the three inch gap, but she had found nothing but a couple of bottle caps and something which Jess thought had once been half an Oreo. There was not a trace of her locket.  
  
When a key turned in the lock, Jess scrambled for a corner of the room, cowering by the side of the dresser. She froze as a tall, thin woman with glasses and frowsy brown hair entered, and wished futilely for the Ring to make her invisible.  
  
The woman frowned, glancing around the apparently empty room and bathroom before spotting Jess in her corner. "There you are!"  
  
She crossed over and looked down at the trembling girl. Jess' eyes widened in recognition and she drew in a sharp breath. *Cappuccino.* "You drugged me! Who are you and where am I and as soon as I get out of here I'm calling the poliiiice!" Her high pitched tone wavered into a wail, as she tried to scoot herself behind the dresser.  
  
The woman blinked owlishly and looked distressed. "There, there dear, no need to be upset about it. It's not our usual method of course, but Joe and Ernest both had to be away picking up the rest of our guests, and well, I'm afraid I couldn't have handled you by myself. It was just a harmless sedative that gave you a good night's sleep. That's more than the other girls got, I'm afraid."  
  
The woman looked rather stern, as if Jess ought to be grateful for having her cappuccino doped and her body hauled to the Valar only knew where. Jess sniffed hard and tried not to show exactly how frightened she was.  
  
"Now enough of this nonsense. We're not going to hurt you, so you had much better do as I say. Pull yourself out of that corner and follow me."  
  
She marched over to the door and held it open expectantly. Jess followed. Who knew what diabolical punishment might await disobedience?  
  
They walked down a short hallway, painted a depressing gray, and entered what looked like a living area. A dilapidated sofa and chairs filled one half of it, while a matched set of table and chairs took up the other. The morning sun streamed through windows, and at first Jess was too busy blinking to notice the other occupants of the room.  
  
"Is this it or are there other convicts to be led out from their cells?"  
  
Jess squinted in the direction of the sarcastic voice and saw a girl a couple of years older than herself seated on one of the lumpy recliners. Another girl leaned against wall beside the window, light reflecting off of bright red hair that was clearly not natural. Both girls looked as if they had slept in their clothes and forgotten their hair brushes. Jess suddenly realized she must appear the same, only worse because she had been crying.  
  
The nameless woman's smile was strained. "This is all that will be attending this session. Megan dear, this is not a prison."  
  
"Good, then I can leave immediately. Would you call a taxi for me?"  
  
"You can't leave now," snapped Frowsy Hair, her smiling at an end.  
  
"Of course not," boomed a jovial voice from the doorway.  
  
Jess turned to watch a short, round man bounce into the room.  
  
"You wouldn't want the doctor to release you from the hospital before you were completely cured were you? Since I'm the resident physician around here, you'll have to have my permission to leave, but I'm afraid none you get clean bill of health, just quite yet."  
  
Joni sighed in relief. "I couldn't agree more, doctor."  
  
This must be the Dr. Istar her mother had referred to. He was grinning hugely, as if it was the best joke in the world. The girl called Megan groaned and buried her face in her hands. Jess knew exactly how she felt.  
  
* * * *  
  
*Dear Mom,  
  
The food here is lousy. They don't even have decent bread and water. I think the jail keepers are crazy. Please, please, please pay my bond and get me out of here! I promise I'll pay you back.  
  
Your desperate daughter*  
  
"So how did you two end up in this nuthouse?"  
  
The question interrupted Deirdre's imaginary letter. Looking up from the imitation scrambled eggs, she saw that Dr. Istar and his assistant, the skinny woman's name was Joni, were absent. The two had kept up a constant and cheerful stream of conversation throughout the meal, most of which ran something like this:  
  
Dr. Istar: Very seasonable weather we're having.  
  
Joni: I couldn't agree more, doctor.  
  
Dr. Istar: I'm so glad the weather isn't disappointing.  
  
Joni: I couldn't agree more, doctor.  
  
Dr. Istar: One hates to go outdoors when the weather is disappointing.  
  
Joni: I couldn't agree.  
  
Deirdre had rapidly tuned them out. Now the three girls were momentarily alone. Deirdre looked at Megan, who had asked the question. The girl looked mildly curious and slightly bored. Deirdre admired her cool demeanor.  
  
"A couple of masked men broke into my bedroom last night. They tied me up with duct tape and tore my room apart. My mother was just standing there, watching the whole time," she offered.  
  
"Duct tape?" Megan's eyebrows rose. "I guess I was lucky. All they did was pull me into a van in a dark alley. What about you, Jessica, right?"  
  
"J-Jess." The freckled girl and whimpered all through breakfast and her glasses were so tear streaked that Deirdre wondered how she could even see. "My mother introduced Joni as a friend of hers. We went out for coffee and she d-drugged my cappuccino."  
  
"Drugging your coffee, these people really aren't afraid to stop at anything are they?" Meg sounded disgusted.  
  
"Did your Mom arrange for you to be kidnapped too?" Deirdre inquired.  
  
Meg shook her head, "No, a jealous boyfriend was responsible."  
  
"What, did you dump him?"  
  
"Nah, he said I spend too much time thinking about Legolas."  
  
Deirdre's eyes widened, "That's weird. When they were kidnapping me, the thugs tore down all my Legolas pictures."  
  
"And my locket is gone!" chimed in Jess. "It had pictures of Elrond and Legolas in it."  
  
"Whoa, so is this like some kind of anti-elf society? Are they part of the dark side fans?" Deirdre wondered.  
  
"Hardly, they don't anything to do with Mordor any more than Rivendell." Megan stared at her companions-in-distress. "Don't you guys know why we're here? Didn't they tell you anything?"  
  
Both girls shook their heads. Megan snorted. "Figures. Maybe they thought the uncertainty would weaken your minds. Girls, this is a deprogramming agency. Most of the time they kidnap people who have been brainwashed by cults and try to restore them to reality."  
  
"What? I don't belong to a cult! I've been Catholic my whole life!" Deirdre protested.  
  
Meg's tone was dark. "They're not trying to free us from some screwy religion. They want to make us forget Middle Earth."  
  
A/N Next chapter the battle officially begins! Updates will be about once a week (hopefully). And would it hurt you to drop off a little review? No, of course not! 


	3. There Is No Such Thing as an Elf

A/N Thank you, thank you to my reviewers! Has anyone told you lately that you're beautiful? You are.  
  
Equus: Physician, heal thyself, eh? Who needs a swimming pool with all of Mirkwood to roam around? Crystal clear streams, romantic waterfalls.  
  
Letylyf: Isn't 'inane' a great word? But your review wasn't . . . at least, not to me!  
  
Huinesoron: Amen to that!  
  
Amanda: Here's the update, hope you have fun!  
  
*Asterisks* mean an unspoken thought or written material, depending on the context.  
  
CAPITALS mean emphasis. . . but you could probably figure that out.  
  
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are purely fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons is coincidental. I do not own any rights to Lord of the Rings (excepting those of a dedicated fan), or any other registered products or names which may appear in the course of the story.  
  
Rated PG for material which may be traumatic to some readers.  
Chapter 3: There Is No Such Thing as an Elf  
  
Jess sat on one side of the desk, staring fearfully at the rotund doctor on the other side. He smiled kindly.  
  
"Now let's see, Jessica Tanner, I believe you are in the tenth grade, is that right?"  
  
Jess nodded silently as Dr. Istar flipped through a thick manila folder.  
  
"Hmm, yes, honor student, very good. And you run track?"  
  
Another nod. Jess wished she had room to run now. She'd be out of this place so fast all they would see would be a flash of light. But the doors were locked and there were probably guards on the exits. Guards with guns. Jess caught her lip between her teeth and tried not to start crying again. A real warrior would have way too much pride to show weakness to the enemy.  
  
"I see you are quite a prolific authoress, Jessica." Dr. Istar was gingerly picking through an impressive stack of pages with an expression of distaste. "Tell me, why do you find it worth your while to waste time on these . . . fantasies?"  
  
Silence. *Don't give them anything, Jessica.*  
  
"How much of your life do you spend fighting imaginary battles with, uh . . ." he glanced down at the page, "Uruk-hai? (It came out like Erik-hey.) Wouldn't you rather be out with your friends, having fun at the mall, going for pizza?"  
  
"I am with my friends when I write," muttered Jess, and immediately wished she hadn't.  
  
Dr. Istar sighed heavily. "Jessica, Jessica, these . . . things are not your friends. They are figments of your imagination. They do not really exist."  
  
*Wanna bet? You'd change your mind with an arrow between your ribs.* Jessica sighed softly. She knew no member of the Fellowship was really going to come to her rescue. Still, it was nice to dream.  
  
"Jessica, I want you to think very seriously about this. I think you'll find that the way you've been living is actually very lonely. Wouldn't it be nice to have some real friends? People who talk back to you?"  
  
The doctor continued to flip through the folder and came to the printout of an IM conversation. Scanning it, he scowled darkly.  
  
"I see you have received a lot of encouragement in your pursuits. Who is this Iluvglorfindel236?"  
  
*My friends are in danger too!* Jessica didn't quite dare look the doctor in the eye, but she stared woodenly at his chin and didn't open her mouth. *What if he calls in the guards? I'm not brave enough to stand torture! But the safety of my comrades depends on me.*  
  
"Jessica, you're only making this difficult for yourself." Dr. Istar sounded patiently concerned, but Jess wasn't fooled.  
  
Her mouth tightened, and in a sudden rush of courage she looked the doctor right in the eye.  
  
*You're going to have to get tougher if you want anything out of me, Orc- teeth.*  
  
* * * *  
  
"Of course there is."  
  
"What?" The doctor's round eyes blinked in surprise. He had seen a lot of obsessed Fangirls in his day, but he'd never come across one who stated it so matter-of-factly. They all believed it to some extent, but usually they squirmed and blushed and had an expression in their eyes that revealed they were aware of how silly they sounded.  
  
"Megan," said Dr. Istar firmly, "there is No Such Thing as an elf."  
  
"I'm afraid you're wrong." Meg's face was perfectly calm, and her eyes gleamed with malicious enjoyment.  
  
"I see. Then would you be so kind as to explain to me, if these creatures are not purely imaginary as I had always supposed, where they exist and why I have never seen one?" Dr. Istar had the confident air of one with an unanswerable argument.  
  
"I never said they weren't imaginary," Meg protested mildly. "I just said it wasn't true that they didn't exist."  
  
Dr. Istar began to wonder uneasily whether this case actually belonged in the state mental hospital. "My dear child, if something is imaginary, it doesn't exist. You can't have it both ways. It's an unalterable paradox."  
  
"No it's not. Really, doctor, where did you say you got your degree from?" Megan sounded disapproving. "You don't seem to have a very good concept of basic philosophy. Just because something is imaginary doesn't mean it is non-existent. On the contrary, by the very virtue of its being imaginary it must have existence."  
  
The doctor raised an eyebrow plainly meant to be gently disbelieving.  
  
Megan was enjoying this. "Tell me, doctor, can you picture an elf in your mind? Do you understand the concept of the immortal and beautiful creature to which we assign the term 'elf'?"  
  
"Well, yes."  
  
"Then you see, you've just proved that elves, in fact, exist. They exist in the understanding, or if you prefer, the imagination."  
  
Dr. Istar's mouth opened and then it closed. No sound emerged in the process.  
  
"You see, doctor," Meg sounded like the weary expert, trying once again to bring things down to the level of her simple apprentice, "there are two distinct realms of existence. One is in what we would term the 'real world' and the other is in the understanding or the mind. But that the existence of a thing which has been conceived only in the understanding is still valid, has been accepted ever since Anselm developed his ontological argument hundreds of years ago. While there have been disputes about which realm certain things belong to, there has never been any objection to the idea that there are, in fact, two planes of existence. I really don't understand your object in trying to upset such a universal axiom."  
  
Meg finished her lecture and sat back in her chair. Turning a discreet eye on her watch, she was amused to note that a full two minutes passed before the good doctor discovered his voice.  
  
"Thank you, Megan, that will be all for this morning."  
  
"Have a good day, I've enjoyed our discussion!"  
  
Meg smiled brilliantly and swept out of the room, leaving a shaken doctor to wipe nervously at his brow.  
  
*Mother told me I should become a tax accountant, but no, I had to study psychology . . .*  
  
* * * *  
  
Deirdre wasn't the least bit intimidated by the little man behind the desk. How could she be afraid of someone who twitched?  
  
The doctor offered a rather nervous smile and gestured to a chair, "Please, sit down."  
  
"I'd rather not." Deirdre's tone could have produced a blizzard in Death Valley.  
  
"Yes, well, just as you please, Miss Delancey."  
  
"The name is Deirdre." Stepping closer, the redheaded girl bent over the desk and said in a soft, dangerous voice, "Where is my stuff?"  
  
Surprisingly, her anger didn't seem to intimidate Dr. Istar. Smart aleck philosophy students were out of his realm, but this he could handle.  
  
"You feel very angry with us, don't you? Have you stopped to think about the fact that you're in a rage over a person who doesn't exist?"  
  
Deirdre's eyes narrowed to beams of deadly contempt. "I'm in a rage because your goons stole my stuff. I want it back. Where is it?"  
  
"I'm afraid you can't have those things, Deirdre. Now, if you would just sit down and be willing to discuss this in a reasonable way, I'm certain you will understand our reasoning."  
  
The teen actually looked as if she might be considering it. "Is that your final answer?"  
  
"I'm afraid it is." Dr. Istar was firm yet kind, radiating that sort of concerned authority that is the first requirement for a counseling degree.  
  
"Well, I gave you a chance. You can't say I didn't warn you." Deirdre turned and walked out of the room.  
  
The doctor stood and called after her, "Miss Delancey, I'm afraid I must insist you come back and . . ." He was interrupted by a tremendous crash.  
  
Istar rushed out to find the large living room window lying on the lawn. In the middle of the shards lay a very bad picture of a sunflower. Deirdre was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Joni entered the room, her hair flying. "I heard this terrible crash and.oh dear. One of the girls?" She surveyed the mess and shook her head sadly. "The poor thing, I'm so glad we can help her."  
  
Dr. Istar was not overwhelmed by the same charitable feelings. He concentrated on even breathing. *Two in. . . four out . . . two in . . . *  
  
"It really was a hideous picture," offered Joni.  
  
"The picture is not damaged," the doctor pointed out between clenched teeth. "The window is. We're on a limited budget. That girl cannot be allowed to destroy the house to gratify her temper."  
  
Deirdre seemed to hold a different opinion. When the crashes in the kitchen started, Dr. Istar pointed wordlessly at Joni. The thin woman turned and ran, and the doctor retreated to his office, locked the door, and dug out the advil.  
  
A/N If you read, please review! It's good for you! (No, not good for you like spinach is good for you.) It gives you great practice for writing award winning stories! 


	4. Plot Exposition

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N A chapter a week? What was I THINKING? No guarantees about when the next update will come, so make the most of this one!

"It's plot exposition. It has to go somewhere." –The Great Muppet Caper  
  
Jess did her best not to cry as she finished heaving up the rest of her breakfast into the toilet. Extreme stress always affected her this way. She'd learned not to eat before tests, school programs, visits to the dentist and balancing her checkbook, but counseling sessions were a new experience for her.  
  
Staggering over to the bed, she crumpled onto the mattress and curled into a ball, gritting her teeth against the gnawing pain in her stomach. Jess was uncertain how long she lay in half conscious misery before a knock on the door preceded the entrance of Joni.  
  
"Jessica dear, time for...oh DEAR!" Joni stared in horror at the shivering, and very obviously ill, girl. Fortuitously, one of Joni's talents was stating the obvious. "My dear, are you SICK?"  
  
Jess moaned.  
  
"Oh dear, oh dear, I must fetch the doctor." Joni backed nervously away from the bed and all but ran out the door.  
  
Scant minutes later she returned, a rather pale looking Dr. Istar in tow. He cleared his throat nervously as he approached. "What seems to be the matter Jessica?"  
  
"Stomach," she managed to groan.  
  
"Perhaps the eggs were not quite right this morning," murmured the doctor, wiping beads of sweat from his brow. "I'm not feeling very chipper myself."  
  
Had Jessica not been afraid that opening her mouth too wide might have disastrous consequences, she could have informed him that her condition had nothing to do with the eggs and everything to do with his method of treatment. She continued to lie in an apparently semi-comatose state.  
  
The two adults retreated to the window. "Doctor, what if she is seriously ill?" came Joni's hushed and very worried inquiry. "She should be under professional medical care."  
  
"We cannot release her until the treatment is completed. You KNOW that. Our orders are very clear," Dr. Istar hissed back.  
  
"But perhaps if we were to explain the situation..."  
  
"Early release could be highly disastrous. Would YOU like to explain to HIM why the entire operation came crashing down because of US?"  
  
Jessica listened to the whispered conversation with a sort of dazed detachment. The doctor was under orders from a higher authority. One he apparently feared. That this was important information registered in one part of her agitated mind.  
  
Merethwen crouched on the wide windowsill, pressed against the rough stone for concealment as she strained to hear the hushed conversation taking place within the shadowed room. The information would be crucial to guessing the enemy's next move, and guessing the next move was imperative. The entire company was walking straight into a trap, one Merethwen feared they would never be able to escape. Still, hopeless as the situation seemed, she had sworn to protect, by her life or death...  
  
An overwhelming wave of nausea doused the erstwhile heroine. Rolling off the bed, she staggered for the bathroom.

_Review unto others as you would have them review unto you._


	5. Let's Talk

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.  
  
Chapter 5: Let's Talk About This  
  
The sky was blue, the sun was yellow and the grass was brown. Very brown and very prickly for sitting on.  
  
Deirdre flicked an ant off her leg and rolled her eyes as Jessica squealed. "There's a bug on me."  
  
Joni reached over, silver bracelet giving off a blinding twinkle in the sun, and brushed the girl's arm. "There, dear, it was just a little gnat."  
  
Jess snatched her arm away as if burned. "Don't touch me!"  
  
Dr. Istar cleared is throat loudly. "Now, ladies. . ."  
  
Jessica snorted. "I don't know where you're getting your information, buddy, but I am not a lady." She bared her teeth. "If you need proof I could break a few more windows."  
  
"I only meant. . ." Dr. Istar sighed. "Well then, if you prefer, girls, we are. . ."  
  
"Excuse me, doctor," Megan waved her hand, "in the interest of accuracy, I would like state that I am not a 'girl.'"  
  
He turned to her with forced courtesy. "Really, Megan, the point is not. . ."  
  
"I'm not a lady, either," she continued blithely. "Hasn't been any blue blood in my family for centuries. Not, in fact, since King Sven Svenson of Sveden. He went mad, you know." She gazed, wide-eyed, at Istar.  
  
"Erm, well, that's. . .interesting."  
  
"But as you said, that's not really the point. The point is that 'woman' would be a more accurate term to describe me since I am old enough to smoke and drink alcohol. Not that I do either. Personally I consider them habit- forming, disgusting and unhealthy, not to mention expensive, activities." She smiled brightly.  
  
The doctor grimaced back. "Yes, well, that is, la. . .gi. . .We are HERE. . ."  
  
"AAAAHHHH!" Jessica sprang to her feet, shaking her arms convulsively. "A SPIDER! THERE'S A SPIDER ON ME!"  
  
Istar pulled the Advil bottle out of his pocket. Joni placed a warning hand on his arm. "Doctor, it's only been two hours since your last dose."  
  
In complete contradiction to her earlier sentiments, Jessica grabbed Joni's arm. "I'm going to be sick!"  
  
"Perhaps," suggested the doctor, "we should adjourn until this evening."  
  
Later that evening...  
  
The group was again congregated, this time in the (bug free) living area of the cabin. The moment everyone's rear end was pressed against a cushioned surface, Dr. Istar began to speak. "This is the first of our group sharing times. It is an opportunity for you to discuss your problem openly with each other. We have two topics I'd like to cover tonight, so let's not waste any time."  
  
"Like. . .we have somewhere to go?" Deirdre demanded.  
  
Istar raised his voice. "Each of you is here because of a person close to you. For Jessica and Deirdre it was their mothers. For Megan it was a young man who loves her deeply."  
  
A snort floated from the depths of Meg's easy chair.  
  
"Despite your close relationships with these people, you are not happy to be here, and it is natural some negative feeling might be reflected onto your relationships. Perhaps you feel angry, perhaps betrayed. Jessica, let's start with you. How do you feel about your mother right now?"  
  
Jess took a trembling breath. Be strong, Jess. Don't give them anything they can use. "My mother is none of. . .none of. . ." She glanced wildly at Istar and then, in the bravest move of her life, whispered, "your business."  
  
"Way to tell 'em, Jess," Deirdre congratulated. "My mother isn't any of your business, either. And just in case you were wondering, I DON'T have an electric complex."  
  
"I beg your pardon?" Joni looked confused.  
  
"I believe she means Electra complex," Meg offered. "I don't have one either, but I would love to talk about my mother. She's a wonderful woman, a noted Tolkien scholar, in fact. She actually had the privilege of meeting the professor."  
  
"So totally cool!" Deirdre leaned forward in excitement. "Did she. . ."  
  
"Megan," Istar interposed hastily, "your mother is not the person I wish to discuss."  
  
"Oh right. . .Justin." Meg sounded less than thrilled. "If you insist, but I assure you my mother is much more interesting."  
  
"I do insist." Istar welcomed the chance to use his 'firm but kindly' tone.  
  
"Ah, yes, Justin. I find it hard to believe I was so stupid. The first time we met was in the computer lab. I had a CD labeled LOTR Fanfic sitting on the desk, and Justin was at the station next to me. He looked over at my disk and asked, 'Lotur? What's a lotur?'" Meg shook her head. "That should have clued me in, but I fell for a pair of bright blue eyes and a head full of silky blond hair." She looked meaningfully at Jessica and Deirdre. "Take a piece of advice from someone who has been there. A pretty face isn't worth a piece of stale lembas if there's nothing up here," she tapped her temple, "to back it up."  
  
There was a small silence, and then Jessica, her eyes glittering with tears, whispered, "Poor Megan."  
  
Even Joni looked touched.  
  
"On to our next topic," Istar chirped. (That is, chirped like a starling that had just had its tail feathers nipped by a mischievous Mirkwood archer.) "All three of you. . .young women. . .have dedicated a great deal of effort to works of fiction. Not, however, stories that stem from your own creativity, but ones centered around someone else's invention, namely, The Lord of the Rings. Tell me, do you think this is really a worthy investment of your time and work? Is it fair to YOU that all your work must give credit to another author?"  
  
"Disclaimers are a pain," drawled Deirdre, but Istar, eyes widened with concealed triumph, ignored her. During his speech, a most remarkable change had come over the irascible Megan. Her hands covered her mouth, and there was an expression of agony about her eyes. "Megan," Istar inquired. "Is there something you would like to share with us?"  
  
"Yes!" cried Meg, leaping up from her chair. "Your words about unworthiness have a struck a terrible chord in me, doctor! There is something I must. . .MUST confess." She took a deep breath. "I am deeply ashamed to stand before and say that I once wrote a fan fiction. But not just any fiction. It was a Mary-Sue Legomance!" She buried her face in her hands, gathering the strength to go on.  
  
Joni offered her a tissue and patted her shoulder. "There, there dear."  
  
Meg scrubbed her cheeks. "Yes, I, in the guise of a human-elf hybrid, with eyes as sparkling as the stars and hair as golden as the sun, I caused Legolas to fall in love with me against every natural inclination of his character. And the worst part is. . .that in the scene where the heart-felt confession of love takes place, not only was I, the Mary Sue, dressed in gown that was pink, yet purple, I. . .sang. . .I sang 'Circle of Love' and played an electric guitar, using a hollow tree for an aaaaaamp!" She fell to her knees, sobbing. "Forgive me, Legolas, oh, forgive me!"  
  
Jess sprang from her chair and threw her arms around Megan. "Don't cry, Megan dear. You can go back and edit the story! I'll help. It will be all right, you'll see!"  
  
If Megan's sobs after this point sounded a trifle hilarious, no one mentioned it. 


End file.
